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Disclaimer: If you aren't of legal age, and are going to protest M/M pairings, the back button is your friend.

All mistakes are mine

Gage belongs to me. Linkin however, belongs to Linkin Monroe

Interested in participating in a session with Gage? Read this:

https://www.sofurry.com/view/730834

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Ah, the symphony. "High culture" usually means having people dress in their Sunday best (or better) and basically act like they are suddenly cultured in the art just because they are present. However, it would be cynical to say that most of our patrons are present in our hall for show; with technology being what it is, you could look up almost any work and hear it in the comfort of your own fleece bathrobe and slippers, drinking the finest chardonnay in a pristine wine glass while reading the highest literature written in your vernacular. At least, that's what we hope.

Even though I'm certainly not part of our City's elite in terms of wallet size, my job as the librarian for the symphony does have a particularly decent perk: After I set out all of the music on the stands and make sure programs are passed out in the foyers so the ushers can hand them out, I get to sit wherever the fuck I want in the hall for free, even before the first patron chooses their own spot. There's one seat on the left side I always choose in one the boxes (tickets usually run about $150, that's how good they are) I tend to favor; I get to hear and feel the basses and cellos more (the violins will be heard just because of their register), and I get to stare at our timpani player's crotch. It is the only spot in the hall where I am able to do that without obstruction. Ulysses, our principal percussionist and timpanist extraordinaire, is a tall black draft horse. He is about ten years older than me and is very handsome, and his package is always....visible. I wouldn't say anything obscene about it; he can't help it. Plus, he's married and has two beautiful daughters, so I can't hit on him freely in respect to that. But, I will stare at him from a distance as that's all I can do.

Tonight's concert should be interesting. Adam's "Short Ride in a Fast Machine", Stravinsky's "Petrouchka", and Prokofiev's "Piano Concerto No. 3" were all on the program, the last two pieces featuring our resident piano soloist, Martha Edgerovitch. She was a sweet elderly fox; she visited me in my office when she arrived praising me for the wonderful job I did in correcting her part. For such a little old lady, she packed a lot of sound in her dainty paws. She was also quite generous; she asked the entire staff out to dinner one night and paid for everything, despite my boss, Mr. Reager's, protests.

But enough of that.

The doors had opened right after I sat down. I knew there was at least one other occupant in the box with me, but I had no idea which of the other five seats they would be sitting in. I wasn't worried. I was the furthest person in front, so I didn't have to concern myself about them blocking my view of the stage.

Conversations rumbled in, various men and women dressed from business formal to painfully formal attire walked in, trying to locate their seats without asking too many questions. I myself was in my standard tuxedo just in case I was needed for something onstage for some bizarre reason. It fit me rather well, but I could do without the bowtie and shoes. Tux shoes are always uncomfortable, and the bowtie threatened to suffocate me if I breathed in too deeply. But, I would live just fine, as long as I wasn't suddenly subjected to heavy cardio training.

"Audrey, you know I hate tuxedos. Why do I have to wear one?" A rather male voice complained behind me. I glanced back, and found two dobermen, a male and a female, talking in the hallway.

"Linkin, you look great in it; it compliments your figure. Now, I have to go find my seat; Michelle and Dad should be around here somewhere..," the female Doberman spoke, patting the male Doberman on the shoulder. "We aren't planning on going anywhere afterwards, so you won't have to worry about finding us after the concert is over."

"Fine..." the male grumbled as the other Doberman (doberwoman...?) walked out of sight, and he headed into the box.

Linkin, as over heard from the conversation, was pretty close to my stature and build. He was about 6'2'', and looked to be about the same build as I was: a good lean 180 pounds. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a little heavier; it's always hard to tell in suits and tuxes. Short fur, primarily black, covered his head besides the mahogany fur that marked his eyebrows and muzzle. Even with the dim light, his dark blue eyes were easily seen, almost as if they were pale beacons. He perky ears pointed up as he neared my seat, finally noticing me.

"Is this one taken?" he asked with a slight hint of bitterness, pointing to the seat next to me.

"You're in luck; every seat with the exception of the one I'm currently in is free." I always try to be polite, even towards disgruntled patrons.

"How do you know that?" he asked with suspicion.

"I work here, good sir."

"...Oh. Well then," he huffed and sat down next to me. I figured he'd want to go sulk in the far corner so he could make a clean get away at the intermission, but apparently seeing the stage is a bit more interesting.

"Name's Gage," I turned slightly towards him, preparing to shake his paw.

"Linkin," he grumbled, glaring at some unseen object in front of him, arms folded. I retracted my arm at the dismissal of a friendly greeting.

"Lincoln like the President?" I asked.

"No, Linkin as in Linkin Park."

"I see."

Despite his initial coldness, he seemed to relax a little after I spoke to him. He was still glaring at the side of the concert hall as if he despised the choice of wall color, but his arms relaxed a little bit. I don't know whether he was bitter about the concert program, being with his family and forced to go, or something just really pissed him off earlier...

"God, this thing is too damn tight!" he burst out, pulling at his bowtie. He yanked it off and unbuttoned the top button on his collar. "At least now I can breathe..."

...or maybe he just doesn't like tuxes. A bright glint caught the corner of my eye, and glancing over again, I noticed a choke chain collar around his neck receding into the depths of his shirt. It certainly added to his seemingly rough character, though it wasn't uncommon to see dogs with some sort of collar around their necks these days.

The lights dimmed, quieting the hall. Applause broke out once the conductor and the concertmaster walked from back stage to the front. They bowed to the audience and the orchestra, and took their positions on stage.

A steady woodblock playing fast quarter notes started the piece. Clarinets joined in, playing a 3:4 polyrhythmic flourish. Trumpets entered in staccato, played accented open fifths before fragmenting their rhythm while other brass instruments added different tones, and the piece took off in a flurry of notes, pounding percussion, and driving rhythms for the brass. "Short Ride in a Fast Machine" is a staple minimalist opener for orchestra, and it certainly lives up to the title. Everyone holds on to the woodblocks tempo, and if he gets off, the whole piece crumbles. It's a deceivingly frightful piece. Even for textural instruments such as the clarinets and strings, if they get off just by a little bit, they would be playing catch up for a long while, and that is always a terrifying feeling.

The piece ended with a bang. Instant applause broke out once the last chord sounded, almost as if the audience knew when exactly the piece would end. It was certainly fitting for this work, as energetic as it was. Linkin had one elbow propped on the arm rest, the other paw clapping with low enthusiasm. But, judging by the excitement in his eyes, his applause was mostly a façade. He probably would fall asleep during Petrouchka, given that it wasn't such a whirlwind of notes, it lasted over half an hour long, and his own apparent disinterest of the symphony itself showed that it might be a challenge for his attention span.

But, sometimes judgments are hasty.

Stravinsky's lesser known early ballet is an interesting story dealing with the troubled love interests of a puppet, ballerina, and another puppet (portrayed as a blackamoor). The piano almost functions as a soloist; the part is extraordinarily technical, and in the second and third acts, the mood changes from phrase to phrase that it also challenges the musicality of the performer.

The first act started, and halfway through, I noticed a thumping coming to my left. I glanced over and found that not only was Linkin awake, but he was particularly transfixed on Ms. Edgerovitch. Maybe he had a thing for old foxes, I don't know. The thumping continued. I looked down, and found his fingers mimicking the soloist's fingers on the keyboard.

"You play piano?" I asked quietly.

"Huh? Oh-some. I'm not any good, but I do play from time to time. I also play guitar as well," he whispered; his response had much less coldness attached to it, almost as if he was glad someone had noticed a talent of his.I watched as his fingers played along the arm rest, almost perfectly curved, thumbs moving under when needed, flowing right over until-

"Oh, sorry!" he retracted his paw from where it struck the crotch of my pants. Even though he apologized, it almost seemed...intentional, perhaps? It was hard to tell in this environment, and I didn't want to make assumptions. Soon, enough, however, his fingers were idly playing once more. They danced out of rhythm with Ms. Edgerovitch's notes, but he matched the character of the work easily.

"Sorry!" His fingers grazed my thigh. I say grazed for his benefit of a doubt, but I would have said caressed in other circumstances, mostly because the soloist wasn't playing at that moment. Maybe he's trying to tell me something, I thought to myself, a small smirk creeping to my face.

Petrouchka ended silently. Applause broke out a bit after the conductor lowered his paws, and the lights in the hall turned back on for intermission. I stood up and stretched, making sure that Linkin got a good full look of my slim shaped body before relaxing, trying to send a subtle message.

"Sorry, about that," Linkin grumbled, paw scratching the base of his neck. He wasn't looking at me as he apologized for his accidental gropes.

"It's ok. I'm very selective with those who I allow to touch me," I said mildly, hoping he might pick up on the subtlety. He wasn't the most subtle guy himself, but it's always better to be safe with a tall muscular doberman. I had stated my offer, and now I had to wait for him. After taking a restroom break, I returned to my seat. Linkin was still sitting there, head in paw, still trying to put on the façade that he was a tough son of a bitch that didn't need no culture.

The lights dimmed just as I sat down, and applause broke out once more as the conductor, concertmaster, and Ms. Edgerovitch walked out onto the stage and bowed. The piano was now sitting in between the audience and conductor, as opposed to back stage. The conductor raised his paws, and began the piece. The piece started quietly with a lyrical clarinet solo. More and more instruments slowly came in until the piano soloist took over. The thumping next to me resumed.

The first two movements went by, Linkin thumping all the way up until the end. The third one, however, had no imitation from his fingers. I glanced over. He was holding his paws as if he was trying to restrain them. I looked at his face. He quickly turned his head, as if he got caught staring at me.

What is this, middle school?

But, I must be patient. He was probably the type that didn't like being jumped on; he must be the one jumping. Halfway through the third movement, the thumping resumed, but it was hesitant and sloppy. Almost as if-

"Oh what the hell," he muttered.

"Oh!" I gasped as he groped my groin through my pants, taking his time to forcefully feel me up. I grinned, and ground my hips lightly into his sizable paw, making sure he got an adequate feel.

"Heh, 'big cat' alright..." he spoke in a low hushed voice, sending chills down my spine.

"Indeed," I moaned, his fingers testing the weight of my balls. Moving upwards, his fingers circled around my sheath as best as they could through the fabric, testing the size of what lay inside.

"Are panthers normally this large?" he asked in wonder, still squeezing my contents. I gave no answer as I let him have his way with me for the time being. I certainly wasn't going to get a full blown erection from this alone, but it was certainly a pleasurable and illuminating experience. Perhaps he wasn't as cold and harsh as he seems.

Applause broke out. Linkin released his hold, grinning at me as we stood up to applaud the fantastic performance like we had actually heard the whole thing. We didn't need to talk as the glint in our eyes said everything. We knew what we wanted; how it happened was secondary. So naturally, it meant my place.

Once we stepped onto the foyer from the box, I handed him a card with my address on it, and we headed to our cars. I hurried to my vehicle, but still bid farewell to all of the employees I met along the way. I wasn't in a hurry...I just didn't want for him to beat me to my home. I'd be an awfully terrible host if I arrived late.

The drive was easy. Beyond the unforgiving traffic of people trying to actually leave the concert hall parking area, I managed to hit all green lights, leading me to my destination. I quickly parked in my apartment complex's lot, and briskly walked up the stairs.

"You're slow." Linkin was leaning against the doorframe. He was still in his slim tuxedo, arms folded, and that devilish smirk on his face.

"Let's hope you didn't endanger anyone on the way here," I said, almost admitting defeat, but still impressed that he beat me here.

"Well, there was this one guy I hit..." he started, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner, as if the notion of such acts were trivial. "I'm sure he's fine, though."

I shook my head as I inserted the key, unlocking the door. I stepped inside and removed my jacket and shoes. He did the same, placing them right next to mine. The second I finished removing the outerwear, he tackled me. Our mouths collided in ferocious kisses, most of them not necessarily on each other's mouths. His paws roamed my back, trying to map it and take my clothes off at the same time. My own paws were working at his tux shirt, slowly working the buttons until finally, his shirt opened up. His paws left my back after a nice grope of my butt, and he let his shirt fall to the floor.

The first thing that caught my eye was his chest. It was difficult not to notice it as it was highlighted by mahogany fur that framed the top of his defined chest. He wasn't overly muscular, but there was no doubt that he worked out quite a bit. Abs drew my attention next. The short black fur continued down until it reached the second row of abs before it changed to mahogany same mahogany fur of his face. The mahogany fur continued south until I could see no more due to his pants.

I wrapped my own arms around his body and we resumed our exploration of each other's mouths. He undressed me in the same manner as my paws roamed his strong back and firm ass. He gently slid the tux shirt off of my shoulders, revealing my toned upper body to him. He pulled back from the kiss, basking in the view.

"Heh, You look much better without clothes," he commented, tracing the vein of my bicep.

"You haven't even reached the best part," I commented as I I felt his hard torso, squeezing gently at his rounded pecs. He flexed them, showing how strong the muscles were.. They didn't give under my grip, much to my delight. I rubbed his nipples with my thumbs, seeing what that would do to him, seeing as he apparently liked to be touched.

"You won't get anything from those," he said, trying not to sound amused.

"Oh? How about this then?"

"Ow!" he yelped as I pressed firmly against the sides of his chest.

"Ah, lymph nodes..." I smirked as I gently rubbed the spot. "Bedroom is this way," I offered my paw to him. He took it, and I lead him through my beige colored living room. I led him upstairs, and down the hall. I opened the door to the most intimate room of the apartment.

Burgundy colored walls made the room seem cozier than it actually was. Two soft light lamps flanked either side of my large bed, which stood on dark wooded tables. There wasn't much furniture in here, so I had to make due with environment and atmosphere.

I turned around to face Linkin, but he beat me to the punch. He gently pushed me onto my bed, and landed on top of me. Our mouths met once more, and our groins made contact for the first time. He pressed his hips firmly into mine, grinding his maleness into me. I lifted my legs behind his waist in a clothed missionary position, moving against him as well.

He moaned into our kiss as we grinded. My cock was swiftly hardening, but t was still confined by my restrictive pants. I could feel his straining cock through the thin fabric, yearning to be freed. With one final deep kiss, he pushed his body up from my chest. I glanced downwards. Though it was slightly dark, I could see the outline of our bulges rubbing against each other's as if they were imitating or own bodies.

Linkin grinned as he stood upright. He stepped back a bit, and quickly unfastened his tux pants. They fell to the floor, revealing what lay underneath.

"A jockstrap?" I asked in partial disbelief.

"Yeah?" he grunted, putting his paws on his hips, displaying the bulging red material. "Is there a problem?"

"Your choice of undergarments to wear to a classical concert is a bit...questionable."

"Don't judge," he snapped playfully.

"I am judging," I smirked and grabbed the chain collar, pulling him down to me again, mouths meeting again. I enjoyed having his body pressed against mine. His body was incredibly warm, the musculature of his torso was very supportive, and the shortness of his fur made him a living breathing blanket of sorts, one in which there would never be enough to cover my whole body. I reached around his back, and slowly tugged at the jockstrap, pulling the elastic band over his ass. I felt something thick and heavy swing against my own crotch and make a dull plod against his stomach. Glancing down, I found a thick red cock pointed straight at me in between our bodies. I ground my hips against it, making him shudder above me.

"I guess I should finish undressing as well," I grinned.

We slowly rolled over so that I was now on top. I stepped back just as he had done. Linkin braced himself on his elbows, anxious for the show. I took a quick moment to survey his naked glory. The mahogany fur on his abs extended downwards and completely enveloped his crotch before trailing down along his inner thighs. Egg sized balls hung beneath his thick nine inch cock. It looked a good six inches thick just as my own, which was a good girth to take by itself, but with his knot...that could be interesting. Not that I'm worried; I've take horses whole before. The black fur resumed down his compact quads until his heels. There, his feet were covered in the mahogany fur.

I unfastened my pants, and slowly removed them. I was in no hurry to show him what I had. They fell to the floor, revealing my tight briefs. My cock was almost painfully restrained, creating a sharp point at the top. Linkin's nubby tail wagged underneath him as I pulled the waistband away from my groin with my thumbs and slowly removed them as well.

"Damn, Gage..." I smirked. I try not to flaunt my size, but these reactions certainly add to my ego. Eleven inches of hard throbbing flesh poked out from the fabric. The briefs fell to the floor, joining the remnants of our clothes. I stepped out of the mess and towards the bed. Linkin graciously pulled me into another full contact embrace, but this time, we were able to enjoy each other's entire body. Our hard cocks slid against each other, creating sweet friction as our hips ground against themselves. Warm balls touched my own, fueling the lust filled haze that was slowly enveloping our minds and bodies.

Linkin sat up and gently flipped me over. I ended up on my back, his warm hard body sinking into me again. He gave me a gentle kiss on the lips before kneeling down on the ground, hoisting my legs on his shoulders. I laid my head back in anticipation for what was to come as there would only be one reason why someone would put themselves in that position.

Warm breath wafted over my hole. A cold nose poked my balls, inhaling the musky scent that they emitted. A broad tongue slowly lapped along my anus, sending a shiver down my spine. His tongue then dragged across my balls, slowly picking each one up, testing the weight. They fell gracefully, settling at the bottom of my sac, sending whispers of pleasure through my body. Linkin turned his attention once again my hole, this time with utmost fervency.

"Oh god...!"I moaned, arching my back as he bathed my entrance with his warm and slick saliva. Every so often, he'd prod my hole, as if he was seeking permission to enter. I relaxed as best as I could, and his tongue invaded. I felt it coat my insides as I tried to contain my body spasms. Electricity danced along my groin area during his invasion. My cock throbbed, and a nice droplet of pre slowly oozed from the tip of my cock, viscously falling until it landed on my stomach.

After a minute or so of tongue fucking my hole, he pulled out. I let out a content sigh, feeling my loins set ablaze from his ministrations. He gave a final lick to my balls, prolonging the sparks of pleasure I had previously felt. He pushed himself up by bracing against my thighs, his strong arms flexing in the process. My legs were still over his shoulders, and I prepared myself for the inevitable.

"Got any lube?" he asked.

"Right table, top drawer," I automatically said. He reached over me, giving me an eyeful of his toned body. I couldn't resist rubbing his abs as he fished for my lube. He found the turquoise bottle, and applied a generous amount on his paw. Returning to his upright position at the foot of the bed, he covered his cock, giving it a shiny look.

"Oh, wow..."he breathed in, eyes widening in pleasure as a shiver went through his body. I grinned.

"You like it?" I asked already knowing the answer judging by the way his cock throbbed.

"It is a bit...chilling, yes..." It was a special blend of a silicone lubricant and some menthol oil, adding a delicious chill to whatever you applied it with.

He quickly adjusted to the foreign feeling and pulled my legs over his shoulders once more. His pointed tip was already at my entrance, ready to hit its mark. He inhaled, and-

"Ughh...." I moaned as he gently entered me. Thick inch after inch slid inside, smearing the remnant of his saliva and the oils from the lube around, simultaneously cooling and heating up my insides, which was quite a turbulent sensation. I felt his large cock slide over my prostate, making my own shaft twitch in the process, another drop of viscous pre falling from the tip and landing on my stomach, pooling with the rest that had fallen. He grunted as he fully hilted me, nine thick inches residing within my body. He was kind enough to let me adjust, though there wasn't much need. I mean, I wasn't terribly loose, but I certainly didn't need to stretch as some others did.

"Damn, that lube is fucking intense..."

...or maybe he was adjusting himself.

He slowly pulled out until only the tip remained inside before easing his cock in once more. I felt his hefty balls against my ass briefly before he pulled out, establishing a slow languid rhythm. Linkin was being surprisingly gentle, despite his rough personality. His cock almost tenderly filled me, almost like a caress, before slowly pulling me out, just to fill me again. Our breathing matched, slow and relaxed, allowing for me to anticipate his actions and react accordingly. I tilted my own hips back, adding a new angle of penetration. Linkin grunted above me; the subtle shift in movement was much more noticeable on the inside. However, the placid sex was becoming somewhat dull.

"I'll need more than that to get me going," I commented, trying not to sound like I was bored.

"Oh? Well, how about this?" Linkin gave a powerful thrust, spearing my insides with his turgid cock.

"Oh! There we go..." I moaned, throwing my head back against the mattress. My cock jumped, and another drop of pre spilled from my tip. Linkin picked up his pace from there, combining heavy thrusts with a moderate speed. Every so often he'd slow down, using long circular thrusts to keep his rhythm interesting. More and more sparks of pleasure shot up my spine, feeding the haze that floated around us. Linkin brought his arms around my legs and slowly rubbed my abdomen, smearing the copious amount of pre that had pooled along my stomach before working his way up my shaft. I arched my back as he stroked me, almost in the same manner in which he was fucking me. His endurance was certainly worth mentioning, as he did not break this rhythmic set for a good four or five minutes. I wasn't concerned with time, however. All I cared about was the erotic feeling of him sliding inside of me, pleasuring my hole.

Gradually he slowed down, much to my confusion. The intensity still retained, though the speed had dropped significantly, and with a final powerful thrust, he pulled out completely.

"Turn over," he ordered. I turned to my side, rolling over on the sheets before bracing myself on my arms and knees. I felt the mattress sag beneath his weight as he climbed on top of the bed. He grabbed my hips, and resumed his pace. Immediately, I noticed the difference. From here, he was able to provide a much deeper thrust, making me grunt and moan as his cock reached further and further along my insides with each thrust.

I felt him shift his weight above me. Suddenly, Linkin began to truly fuck me, as his thrusts were reaching unbearable speeds. His balls slapped against mine almost painfully, sending more and more bursts of pleasure throughout my body. I gritted my teeth as I pushed back, trying to get more of him inside of me. His paws gripped harder, threatening to bruise my hips as he slammed me with all of his might. I felt the base of his cock swell, and soon enough, it was becoming more resistant to enter. The knot seemed larger than it actually was; it probably added a good two inches in girth to his cock, but it seemed like much more, probably due to the numerous electrified nerves of my ass. He grunted, and I pushed, trying to mash the damn thing inside of me. I love knots, but the process of being knotted...that's a different story. Persistence pays off though, and with one final grunt, it popped inside.

Linkin let out a howl of pleasure, and jackhammered my ass with what little room he had. I felt the knot press up against the edge of my prostate, flooding my body with pure bliss. The tip of his cock was now beginning to leak profusely, and soon, his own orgasm was upon us. He mashed his hips as hard as he could against me as ropes upon ropes of cum shot into the depths of my ass. It flooded around his cock, but the sizable knot he sported refused to let any slip by. With a final spurt, he collapsed on top of me, spent.

"Damn, Gage...that was good..." he breathed. I could feel his rapid heartbeat along my back, certainly giving me a good idea of the pleasure he felt.

"Well, wait till I'm done with you," I grinned boldly, turning my face towards his. His eyes widened.

"Wait, what do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused. Still grinning, I brought one of his paws down to my groin, making sure he felt how hard I still was.

"You didn't-"

"Don't feel bad! It isn't your job for me to experience an orgasm; I'm rather good at holding off, you see..."

Linking gulped, but I felt his cock give a dull throb inside of me. I don't think the idea of begin taken scared him as much as my size.

"I'll be gentle," I promised. His knot finally began to deflate, and soon, it popped out, reliving some pressure that had built up inside of me. I sighed happily, and moved from underneath him.

"How do you want to do this?" he asked, turning onto his side.

"You decide, you're my guest of honor tonight."

"Hmm...I'll ride you." He grinned.

"Fair enough," I returned the grin. Sometimes, it is nice to have someone do all of the work, and apparently Linkin had energy to spare.

I grabbed the discarded tube of lube from the floor, and applied a generous amount to my throbbing cock. I hissed slightly as the menthol seemed to soak into the surface of my cock, a rush of cold enveloping my sensitive flesh. I laid back onto the bed, and Linkin moved his leg over me, straddling my waist. He hefted himself upwards, grabbed my cock, and pointed it at his entrance. He slowly sat down on my cock, and though there was resistance at first, I eventually penetrated him. The warm embrace of his insides slowly enveloped my cock.

"Damn you're tight," I grunted. He made a small grimace as he roughly slid down my cock. He was taking his time, and I had to control my hips from bucking, it felt that good.

"It's your fault for being so big," he retorted, insides quivering around my thick length.

"It's only two inches longer than yours,' I commented. He stuck his tongue out at me in response.

Eventually, he did make it to the base of my shaft. It throbbed inside of him, and I could feel his heartbeat surround my cock as he slowly adjusted to its size. His cock came back to life, slowly hardening as he sat on top of me. He let out a sigh, and with his paws braced on my body, he pushed up with his hips.

His cock throbbed all the way up, and little drops of pre began to leak out of the tip, landing on my groin. At the apex, he gently lowered his hips, but there wasn't as much hesitation in his actions this time around. My cock reentered him with less resistance as well, making it enjoyable for me as it was for him, judging by the way his cock was leaking.

His pace began to take shape as he continued to maneuver his hips along my shaft. He looked like he was concentrating very hard on what he was doing, like someone who was in the middle of a strenuous workout. His eyes weren't closed, but they were focused on something past me. His breathing began to labor as he continued on riding my cock. I was actually surprised at how fast he loosened up as it was almost effortless for my cock to glide into his backside, my barbs tastefully scraping along his tract.

A splash of pre from my cock spilled inside of him. I felt it ooze around my cock, slowly overriding the cool sensations of the lube. I was slowly gyrating my hips into his as he made contact, sending my cock deeper into his depths. He moaned as I did that, but returned to his focus look.

"Faster," I commented, urging him to go on. I felt the pit of orgasm deep within my balls, but at this rate, hours would pass before it hit. Linkin nodded, and then slowly but surely, picked up the pace. He was beginning to sweat now, speeding his movements up to a moderate speed. He closed his eyes and groaned, taking my cock like a champ. I was still meeting his hips with mine, enjoying the feel our bodies colliding erotically together. Pre continued to leak from his tip. He sped up again, and I could feel the pit grow larger with each passing moment.

He was slowly working into a frenzied pace. I could feel it in his breathing, his heart rate, and of course, by the amount that his cock was throbbing, a drop of pre spilling onto my groin and stomach as he sped up and moved with more force. Small slapping sounds could be heard from in between our bodies. He was taking shorter breaths, and I could feel his insides shift around me. My own cock throbbed inside of him, and I knew that we weren't far off.

"Just let go," I moaned, urging him once more. He grunted, and did as I asked. Faster and faster he rode me, the rapid fire slaps of our bodies colliding together in blissful unison filling the room. Pre continuously leaked from both of our cocks, making his movements sloppy, and my groin messy. I moaned out often, which is slightly uncharacteristic of me, but it just felt so good to have someone just go all out on me. He gritted his teeth again as his knot began to swell, adding more weight to his bouncing cock.

Linkin sudden fell forward on his knees, rapidly pawing off. I took initiative and jackhammered his ass, trying to make us both reach our climaxes at the same time. It was inevitable now. With a loud snarl, Linkin came once more. Ropes of warm cum splattered against my chest and stomach. I felt his prostate pulse and his hole clenched around my cock, and with one final thrust, I came as well. I let out a long moan as I filled him with my own fluid. His orgasm had stopped at this point, and waited for mine to wane.

I grunted as he fell forward, his warm body once again, on top of mine. His cock softly throbbed a few times as we embraced before going completely soft. My own softening shaft finally exited his hole, flopping against my balls. I felt his heartbeat against my body gradually slowing down, along with his breathing.

"Well, fuck man..." he said, slowly pushing himself over so he was now on his back. The cooler air of the room filled the space where he was, cooling me off. I instantly wanted him back on top of me.

"You said it." I mumbled, relishing in the afterglow.

"Man, I was not expecting that to happen, especially after going to an orchestra concert," he grinned. I looked over his body. He looked incredibly sexy with a slight sheen of sweat covering his black and mahogany furred body. There's always something arousing about a worn body, and knowing that I had a part in making it worn boosted my ego slightly.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Linkin."

"Did you have a good time?" he asked, almost in a sarcastic manner.

"What do you think?" I retorted sharply, giving him a smirk.

"Let's see, cum splatter chest, cum splattered sheets, cum splattered insides...Nah, you couldn't have."

"Smartass."

"It's better than being a dumb one," he laughed. I shook my head, content to just lay there a little longer...

Bright sunlight woke me up. I rubbed my groggy eyes, sitting up. I looked down at the matted fur of my chest; it reeked of cum. I couldn't complain though. It had been a great night of music and fun, and I met a new fuck buddy. Well, whether he continued to use my "services" was up to him, but connections were established.

Speaking of Linkin, I found that he had vacated my bed. I stood up, and found that his clothes were still on the floor. I heard something fall from within the kitchen followed by an exclamation of some sort. I opened the door and headed down the stairs. I found Linkin in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water, naked.

"Mornin'," he called to me, still drinking from the glass.

"...What did you break?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, that," he took a final swig and placed the glass on the counter. "Oops?" he shrugged. I found the toppled stool on the ground next to him. I shook my head.

"Well, at least it wasn't glass..." I muttered. "I'll be in the shower if you need anything," I mentioned as I headed back up the stairs.

"Can I join?" He asked, ears perking up. "Just kidding, I already had one..." he said as he placed the glass in the sink, noting my slight glare.

Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, fur free from the remnants of last night's adventures. I pulled on some clothes, and noticed that Linkin's clothes had vanished from the floor. Walking back towards the stairs, I saw him completely dressed in my kitchen. Judging by his clothes, you could almost tell he had a rough night, but with his fur now brushed, it created an interesting juxtaposition of cleanliness and unkemptness.

"What?" he asked after noticed me staring.

"You look good in a tux, anyone ever tell you that?"

"Shut it..." he retorted. He may have hated it, but I'm others would agree that he looked hot in slim clothing.

"You on your way out?" I asked, already knowing he was.

"Yeah, my sister called. Lunch is on her today."

"How nice. Are you going to go in that?" I gestured towards his wrinkled shirt.

"And have myself reeking of you? I don't think she'd mind," he laughed at the idea.

"Well, take this before you leave," I said, fishing in one of the side tables in the foyer. I pulled out a small business card and handed it to him.

"What's this? Are you a professional man-whore now?"

"I prefer 'executive' man-whore; professional makes me sound like a prostitute, whereas executive makes it seems like I'm a high-end type of person," I explained. He just cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Whatever." He grunted, and pocketed the card. "I'll consider looking at it, as you were such a delightful host," he said in a mocking tone.

"I do appreciate recommendations, as well," I grinned coyly.

"We'll see. But seriously. I did have a good time. Thanks for having me," he extended his paw for a shake.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I gave a courteous nod along with the shake of a paw, and he headed out the door. I let the sounds of my home settle after the door closed. Linkin was an interesting guy, and I really did hope he'd call....maybe I could take him to another concert.

But first, those sheets were going to smell if I don't do laundry.